I Still Make Coffee for Two
by evilbunnies101
Summary: Ichigo reflects on his memories with Rukia years after her passing.


The coffee still sucked.

He brewed it the same way every single morning, day after day, year after year. He was, of course, using the term "brewed" loosely. Very loosely.

One horrible day, years ago, he had woken up in a particularly vicious mood and decided to make coffee for the first time in his life. So he had. And it sucked.

But every subsequent day, he drank the same coffee, simply because he'd developed a terrible caffeine habit and accidentally got Rukia addicted too.

In her usual form, she never even pretended to appreciate it. She drank the coffee he made for her, complained about the quality, and never thanked him once.

He could almost imagine her sitting at the table by the window, wearing a tattered robe, her small body hunched over in her chair, hair rumpled from sleep.

Sometimes in the night, he still reached out to her, wanting to feel the reassuring slopes of her body, running his arm across the mattress, searching in vain for the woman who changed his life.

_He'd been nervous, sweaty, jumpy. He kept reaching for the velvet box in his coat pocket and toying with it as if he had some nervous tic. _

_His entire body was shaking with dread. He fervently wished that somehow he could reach the end result without any of the mortifying stuff in between. Even if she said no._

_What if she laughed in his face?_

_That was it. She was going to think his proposal hysterically funny. And why wouldn't she? She was going to tell him that, yes, she had been in love with Renji this entire time, and Ichigo was just a nice piece of jailbait who she was using for sex, and then she'd pat him on the head and tell him how precious he was, how adorable. _

_He very nearly turned back toward the jewelry shop to return his purchase. _

The coffee machine made an ugly sound to indicate it was done brewing. Ichigo reached into the dated cabinet and pulled out two mugs. One was covered in cartoony bunny rabbits, a gag gift from Rukia. The other was emblazoned with "World's Greatest Boss" and was a gag gift from him to her.

He poured the sludge into her mug first, careful to put in the exact amount she always liked and demanded.

In the house, nothing had changed. Her girly smelling shampoo was still in the shower, her pink toothbrush still resting on a dish by the bathroom sink. The single sock that she'd haphazardly tossed on laundry day was still caught in the doorjamb of the closet. Her empty tea mug still stood on her night table, mummified tea leaves crusted on the bottom. The kitchen chair she last sat in hadn't moved a single inch, pulled in super close to the table so her short self could reach her plate. Her feet could never reach the floor, so she usually sat with them crossed underneath her. The last drawing she made was still stuck to the fridge where she left it for him. The colors were fading.

Next to it was a picture of her he had taken with a crappy camera. She hadn't realized he was taking it at the time, so her head was turned the other way, her eyes staring almost pensively in the distance. It was taken at a party of some sort, perhaps Ishida's 21st birthday party, he couldn't remember.

_I love you_, he thought, staring at the photo. _I've always loved you. I will never stop loving you. There will never be another person for me._

There was a belief that he'd never put much stock in until recently. It stated that an invisible red thread connected those who were destined to meet and be together, whether it be as close friends or lovers. The thread could be tangled or stretched, but never broken, no matter what happened.

_She was in the passenger seat, napping. It was now or never. _

_The ring was in his pocket, taunting him. He took a deep breath and shoved a hand into the crevice._

"_Rukia," he said loudly, "Here." He tossed the black box into her lap, rousing her from her sleep._

"_Whaaa….?" Her eyes opened blearily, then snapped open almost comically when she saw what was in her lap. _

"_Ichigo…" she said softly, slowly, "What is this?" She sounded so puzzled._

_A vein throbbed at his temple. Was she dumb?_

"_I think it's pretty obvious what it is," he snapped, pulling the car into the driveway of the house. He turned to scowl at her. _

_Her mouth was pursed, a tint of angry red in her cheeks. _

"_I'm sorry, good sir, I'm afraid it's not obvious enough, because I really don't know what this is!"_

"_Well, why don't you frickin' open it, then?" he growled. _

_She turned to the window in a humph, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. _

"_I think you should open it for me," she hissed through her teeth._

"_FINE." He snatched the damned box away, unbuckled the hindering seatbelt, and maneuvered himself so that he was kneeling in the seat._

"_So." he muttered, lifting the box to expose the ring. The stone inside was tinted with violet, as he'd spent the better part of two months trying to find the perfect ring to match her eyes. "Will you do it or not?"_

_She turned back slowly, and her gaze locked on the ring. She stared at it for a few moments. Her eyes glistened, and she stuck a hand to her mouth as a tear began to trickle down her cheek._

"_I'm confused, Ichigo," her voice wavered, but she looked up at him with a resolved eye, "Do what?"_

The bedroom, the kitchen, the garage; they were always safe there. Making love, bantering over breakfast, Rukia resting her head on his shoulder while he played video games she didn't give a shit about. If Ichigo could go back in time and lock the two of them in the house forever, he would. He didn't need the outside world, just her. She would never have gotten hurt.

_He wondered if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. _

_He couldn't be simply friends with her anymore. He was constantly itching to touch her, even if it was just to run his fingers through her hair. She was never-endingly fascinating, the way she moved, the words she said, her laugh. _

_It didn't matter. If she rejected him, he would be miserable, and if he didn't already gain the balls to make a move, then he would stay miserable. He had to do it. _

_Shirayuki glowed in her grasp, the light from the beautiful sword adding to the wielder's own beauty, if that was even possible. _

_He stooped to her level. His proximity surprised her, and she looked into his face inquisitively. He reached a hand to her slender neck, letting his fingers play with the soft downy hairs there. _

_Her eyes closed as she leaned into his touch. His mouth was inches away from hers. _

_When their lips met, he almost fell to the ground. Her lips were so familiar and so new all at once, like he'd been kissing her for years but had never truly felt it until now. _

_He pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her back tightly. Her hands fluttered at the back of his neck, frustrating him. _

_They continued for minutes, or hours, and it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough. _

"_Thank you, Rukia. Thanks to you—I think the rain has stopped."_

**First fanfic in like 6 years, guys. Just goes to show how impactful this show and this ship have been on my fragile emotions. Please review the crap out of this. **


End file.
